


I Swear I've Seen Your Face Before

by ohmcgee



Category: Grayson (Comics)
Genre: Banter, Consensual, Dirty Talk, Frottage, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4576680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grayson and Midnighter team up to fetch another bit of weirdness taken from the God Garden. They run into the lovely Poison Ivy and hijinks ensue in the form of sex pollen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Swear I've Seen Your Face Before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [navaan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/gifts).



> I know most sex pollen fic comes with at least an element of sketch, but just trust me that there isn't even a hint of dubcon or noncon in this fic. Everything is totally consensual, I promise.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Midnighter says as he looks over the railing down into the sea of bodies on the dance floor, eyes landing on one figure in particular, tight jeans and an even tighter black t-shirt, framed by bodies on each side. 

“What’s up, M?” Tony asks, shouldering up next to him to see what’s riled him up this time. 

“Nothing, Tony,” Midnighter mutters, hands Tony what’s left of his beer. “Just saw a familiar ass.”

Midnighter walks off to the sound of Tony’s laughter, walks down the stairs to the dance floor and weaves his way in and out of bodies, getting caught in the riptide every now and then, finally making his way to his target. 

“The hell are you doing here?” He says next to Grayson’s ear, close enough that his chest presses up against Grayson’s back, close enough to feel the sweat on his skin through his thin shirt. “This is where I come to relax, not babysit junior Spyral agents.”

“Hey so, what’s it like being that delusional?” Grayson leans back to say to him so he can hear him over the music. “I’ve always wondered.”

“You don’t want to make me ask again,” Midnighter growls out, squeezing Dick’s hip so hard his fingers curl around and dig into the bone. “ _What_ are you doing here?”

“Maybe I just like to dance,” Grayson says, hips still swaying in Midnighter’s grip, still playing his part, and Midnighter wonders if he spun Grayson around if he’d see some stranger’s face, maybe no face at all, but that’s alright. He’s pretty comfortable with the view he has currently. “You kinda suck at it though. Aren’t you supposed to be like, a perfect specimen or something?”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Midnighter says and he has to lean in so close to speak in Grayson’s ear so he’ll hear him that he can smell the cologne he splashed on his neck, the apple scented conditioner he put in his hair before he came, the fruity drink someone spilled on him earlier. “Maybe you should ask the bastards who experimented on me as a child why they didn’t program in bumping and grinding.”

Dick shakes with laughter and Midnighter can feel it against his chest, under his hands. “I’m pretty sure no one’s said bumping and grinding since nineteen ninety-eight,” Dick says. “But I see your point.”

“You’re going to see the point of my bowie knife if you don’t stop fucking around and tell me why you’re in my club.”

“You’re hunting down biotech that was stolen from the God Garden,” Grayson says, getting to the point finally. “I’ve got a lead on where you might find the next one.”

Midnighter’s hands still on Grayson’s hips, holding him firmly in place. “Then why the fuck are we still standing here? Where is it?”

“That’s the thing,” Dick says. “I’m going to need you to follow my lead on this one.”

“I don’t,” Midnighter drawls, “follow anyone’s _lead._ I see what happens before it happens. I see what’s coming next.”

“Yeah,” Dick says. “That may be true most places, but where we’re going I’m the expert.”

“Ahh,” Midnighter says, smirking. “Home sweet home.”

 

: : :

 

“Her real name is Pamela Isley,” Grayson tells him as he weaves in and out of traffic in the rental car they got just out of the city limits, going fast enough that Midnighter has to brace himself at times. “Most people in Gotham know her as Poison Ivy. Talks to and controls plants and stuff, _really_ serious about saving the rainforest. Oh, and I wouldn’t try making out with her. She’s got this poison --”

“Yeah, I don’t see that being an issue.”

“You know, cocky isn’t so flattering when you’re comatose because you wouldn’t let your nice Gotham tour guide give you the four one-one on the baddies.” Grayson says. “I’m sure you think you’re above her feminine wiles or whatever, but --”

Dick stops talking when he sees Midnighter staring at him. “What?”

“Jesus,” Midnighter mutters. “I’m starting to think you might actually be just a pretty face.”

“Hey, I --”

“I like men, Grayson.” Midnighter says. “Only men.”

“Oh gee,” Dick says, laying on the sarcasm thick. “I wondered why there were no girls in that club!”

“Cute,” Midnighter says flatly, then raises his arm to point to the right. “There’s our turn.”

“Listen,” Dick says after they park down one of the back alleys before making their way over to the warehouse Dick’s informant told him Ivy had been frequenting as of late. “It’s not just the kiss of death though,” he says, trying to keep up with Midnighter as he scales the side of the building to get to the roof so they can get a bird’s eye view of her operation.. 

“Got it,” Midnighter says after about thirty seconds of looking down at their operation, tapping his temple. “I’m going in.”

“Wait,” Dick says, but it’s no use. Midnighter crashes straight through the roof into the fray and all Dick can do is follow, try to keep casualties to a minimum, try to find the weird little seed everyone’s itching to get their hands on before Ivy flees with it.

“Hand it over, Isley,” Midnighter says as his fist flies into one of her lackeys’ faces, spraying blood everywhere. Another one approaches and Midnighter catches him in the jaw, shattering bone and teeth. More and more just keep coming and Midnighter takes them each down as if he were doing something as simple as tying his shoe, barely breaking a sweat. “The seed,” he growls at Ivy after headbutting the last one, dragging his hand across his face to wipe away the blood. “That’s all we’re after, lady. Just give us the seed and we won’t hurt you.”

“How kind of you,” Ivy says, smiling a saccharine smile at Midnighter that makes Dick’s adrenaline spike. 

“Midnighter,” he says warningly. “We should --”

“Now, now,” Ivy says. “Don’t rush off on my account. Stay. _Play_.” 

In the next moment Dick thinks he knows what Midnighter must feel like all the time. He sees _exactly_ what’s coming next. He knows what’s going to happen before Ivy raises her hand. He reaches for his rebreather, the rebreather that _Nightwing_ always kept in his belt, the one that Spyral Agent 37 hasn’t had use for, and starts to panic.

“Hold your breath!” he shouts at Midnighter even though he knows the likelihood of that working long enough for them to get out of the building without ingesting anything is slim. He just has to do _something._ Even in his panic he can’t believe he let this happen. He can’t believe he just let Midnighter take charge in _his_ city, let him storm in without all the proper knowledge, but what’s hitting him the hardest is how as soon as he got back into Gotham it was like he slipped back into his suit, forgot he was a spy now, not a vigilante fully prepared to deal with all of Batman’s eccentric rogues. 

“ _The seed!_ ” Midnighter shouts at Ivy, his gloved hand squeezing her throat tight, not heeding Dick’s warning in the least. 

“It’s...gone…” Ivy chokes out, gasping for breath, her lips turning blue and Dick can’t help it, lets out the breath he was holding and gasps out, “Midnighter, stop. You’re going to _kill_ her.”

“I’ll do worse than that if she doesn’t tell me where the goddamn seed is,” Midnighter shouts, but he loosens his grip around her throat, if only so she can speak more clearly. “ _Where is it_ ?”

“Sold,” Ivy grits out, follows it up with bubbly laughter. “Long gone now. So sorry, boys.”

“Bitch,” Midnighter grits out and Dick tugs at his other arm.

“Leave her,” he says. “We’ve got to get out of here, got to --”

“Oh it’s too late for that, darling,” Ivy says, rubbing at the marks around her throat. “No shower or scrub down is going to help you this time. No shiny new antidote to save you. You feel it, don’t you? Your skin already prickling, the sweat on the back of your neck.”

“What,” Midnighter growls, “Is she talking about?”

And suddenly Dick is just so fucking _angry._ Angry Midnighter refused to listen to him, angry at himself for not making him, for not being prepared, angry at Bruce and Luthor and fucking Spyral and _everything._ And he knows in the back of his head, in the places that are still clear but won’t be for much longer, that he needs to cling to that anger for as long as he can, needs to focus on that and not the warmth of his skin, the liquid feeling pooling low in his belly, curling in his middle and spreading into his bones.

“Can,” Dick says, seething with rage and shaking with panic, feeling electric in the tips of his fingers, in every nerve ending from his toes to his eyelashes. “Can you open a door? We have to...go. Now.”

Midnighter gives him a strange look but he thankfully, blessedly doesn’t argue or ask anymore stupid questions, just nods and summons the door for them to jump through. 

 

: : :

 

Midnighter’s loft is nice, looks like it’s near London, maybe. Dick tries to concentrate on the view, tries to count the squares in the tiles, anything but the gnawing hunger growing within him. He’s aware of Midnighter staring at him like he’s a puzzle he’s trying to solve and Dick bites down on his tongue when he feels the sweat slide down the column of his spine, clenches and unclenches his fingers atop his thighs, scratching his nails over the denim, tapping his foot under the table. 

“Grayson,” Midnighter says and when Dick finally looks up he sees that he’s shed the long black coat and the kevlar vest and he’s only standing there in a grey tank top and black leather pants. Dick can see every curve, every bulge of muscle beneath the tight shirt, the vein that runs up his forearm along the underside of his bicep, licks his lips and thinks about following the length of it with his tongue. “Dick.”

Dick blinks, looks up at him. He knows what this looks like, what _he_ must look like, face flushed, pupils dilated, eyes swallowed up by black until he looks like something wild and feral.

“Want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Dick swallows, digs his fingers into the top of his thighs to have something to focus on, to distract him. “Pollen,” he says. “Psychosexual. Pheromones, maybe. Breathed it in. Such an _idiot._ ”

“Okay,” Midnighter says, voice steady and measured. “Sexual,” he says, eyes raking over Dick, taking him in. “Right. Well, I’ll just give you some privacy, yeah? You just -- you don’t look so hot. No, fuck. You look _too_ hot.”

Then he’s walking over and Dick was doing fine, he was _fine_ until the bastard had to go and push his sweaty hair back and out of his face, and it's like a switch is suddenly flipped on inside of Dick’s body. Or flipped _off_ , more like. Off goes his inhibitions, off goes his logic and rational thinking and off goes every last drop of self control he still was clinging to. Midnighter’s thumb scrapes over his temple and Dick whimpers and pushes back against it, clenches the edge of the chair to keep from reaching out and grabbing and groping at anything within reach. 

“Jesus,” Midnighter mutters. “You’re burning the fuck up. I’m going to get you some water.”

Dick wills himself not to follow, grips the edge of the chair tight and when that doesn’t work he clenches his hands into fists, digs his nails into his palms, but Midnighter is taking too long. It seems like too long anyway, seems like forever, and suddenly Dick’s palming himself through his jeans, arching into his hand, squeezing and panting, and it’s good, so fucking good and not enough, but now that he’s started he can’t stop, needs more, needs --

He doesn’t notice Midnighter has come back into the room until he pushes the glass of water toward him and Dick feels the cool slide of condensation against his arm. He blinks up at him, sees Midnighter just standing there watching him, and suddenly Dick’s on him, pressing him back into the wall, forgetting completely about the glass of water. 

“Grayson,” Midnighter says, in a careful tone that Dick hates. “You’re high. Try and think about what you’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Dick says, licks a salty stripe up the column of Midnighter’s neck, lets his teeth catch on his earlobe. “You like my ass.” 

Midnighter chuckles darkly. “True,” he says and Dick likes his voice this time, likes how rough and heavy it comes out, how un-careful he sounds. 

“You liked dancing with me.” Dick says, tasting the hollow of Midnighter’s throat. “I could feel it.”

“Yeah,” Midnighter breathes out, skims his fingers over Dick’s ribcage and feels Dick’s mouth drag across his skin, hot and wet. “You’re right. And yeah, I want to fuck you.” He grabs Dick’s hands when they reach for his fly. 

“But,” he continues, circling Dick’s wrists with his fingers. “When I do it, when I finally get inside that sweet ass of yours, Dick Grayson, you’re going to be one hundred percent present for it, none of this pheromone mind control horse shit.”

Dick whimpers and Midnighter presses his thumbs into his pulse points on each wrist, which only makes Dick whimper louder and grind his cock against his hip. 

“I’m gonna lay you out,” Midnighter tells him, lips moving across Dick’s temple when he speaks, still pinning Dick’s arms by his sides. “I’m going to take you apart, Grayson. With my fingers, with my mouth, gonna get my tongue inside you and eat you out for fucking _hours_ , make you come just like that."

“Oh my god,” Dick murmurs, rutting against Midnighter’s thigh. “What -- what else?”

“What else?” Midnighter hums, leans back against the wall and just lets Dick use him, lets him hump him like a dog in heat. “Well I’d fucking wreck you, that’s what.”

“ _God._ ”

“I want to see what you look like, all fucked out from my cock. I want to fuck you so good and so hard and so deep that whenever you have anyone else inside of you you’ll wish it was me.”

“ _Fuck --_ ” Dick gasps and tears his wrists out of Midnighter’s grasp to flatten his palms out on the wall behind them, stutter his hips against Midnighter’s until his toes curl and the muscles in his stomach cramp up and he comes, biting his own lip until the blood floods his tongue, rutting against Midnighter until he literally collapses against him and Midnighter has to wrap his arm around him to hold him up.

Midnighter holds him for a minute, lets him find his footing, waits until he falls into a natural pattern of breathing again, then pushes his fingers into Dick’s hair and pulls him back, checks to see if his eyes are still wild and fucked up. They’re still dilated, but nothing like they were before. 

“Good?” Midnighter asks him. 

Dick doesn’t even have the energy to feel embarrassed about how he just came in his pants like a fifteen year old boy, so he just nods. “I think so.”

“Kay,” Midnighter says and pushes Dick back a little, peels himself off the wall and spreads his arms out wide, like an invitation. “Alright,” he says. “You get one free shot.”

Dick knows he’s still getting used to his mind clearing up, but even still he doesn’t think Midnighter’s making any sense. “What?”

“Hit me,” Midnighter says. “I’ll even let you have the face.”

Dick’s brows knit together. “ _What?”_

“That,” Midnighter says, gesturing at the wall where they were just pressed together moments before. “Shouldn’t have done that. You were all fucked up on magic pixie dust or whatever and I -- I mean come on, it’s not like you wanted any of that. So let’s have it. I’m a man. I can take what I deserve.”

Dick shakes his head slowly. “I’m not hitting you.”

“Come on, Grayson. My jaw’s not made of fucking glass, I promise you that.”

“I’m not _hitting_ you,” Dick says. “Because you’re wrong.”

“Frequently,” Midnighter says, lifting one eyebrow. “Care to be more specific?”

“You think I should want to hit you,” Dick says. “Because you think you took advantage of me or something.”

Midnighter doesn’t say anything, just levels a glare at him, waits. 

“You didn’t,” Dick says. “I had enough control over my mental faculties to say no. I didn’t want to.”

“Course you didn’t want to,” Midnighter drawls. “You were so jacked up on plant lady’s sex drugs that you’d let anyone get you off.”

“Whatever, Midnighter,” Dick sighs. He’s too exhausted to go around in circles with him about this. And now that he’s got his brain back he’s just thinking about how bad he fucked up tonight, how disappointed Bruce would be, and not to mention his pants are getting more and more uncomfortable by the second. “Think what you want to think, but I’m not punching you in the face or anywhere else. You don’t deserve it. So just open me a door so I can go home and get changed.”

“Yeah, sure.” Midnighter says. “One question though. I was there too. Why wasn’t I affected?”

Dick shrugs. “Everyone reacts differently. I think it mostly works to strip away your inhibitions, gets you to do things you already secretly want to do, even if you haven’t admitted it to yourself.”

“Okay,” Midnighter says. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Of course it does,” Dick says and he’s grinning now, feels like bouncing on his heels, the fire in his veins and the haze in his head finally completely lifted. “It makes complete sense, actually. You weren’t affected because you already knew how much you wanted me.” His face actually hurts he’s grinning so hard.

“Oh, Christ Jesus,” Midnighter mutters. “ _Door._ ”

He can still hear Grayson’s laughter even long after he shoves him through the portal.


End file.
